


trace our lives in the sand

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, Reincarnation, i really do not write enough yumikuri, kind of a sad fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 14:59:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1822618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their hands don't touch at first, and it takes a little while for Historia to realize that's okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	trace our lives in the sand

Ymir's palms and fingers are always calloused, and the tips of her fingernails are never quite even. Historia could count all of Ymir's freckles on both her face and her shoulders, and if she wanted Historia could connect the dots with her feather-light touches. Historia has lost count of how many times her fingers have ran through Ymir's dark brown hair as they kissed, but she has kept a record of how many times their lips have touched. Historia knows how Ymir's body bends and how her smooth skin changes to scars from wounds she received lifetimes ago. Historia knows how Ymir's eyes twinkle when she smirks and Historia knows that the earth itself has taken Ymir in its root-tendril hands.

But Ymir never remembers her.

(Historia knows from the way Ymir's hand dangles just out of reach from Historia's, how Ymir's eyes never twinkle anymore and how Ymir's laughter is never meant for Historia's ears.)

(She knows it from the way she always has to introduce herself again each time they meet. She knows it from the way Ymir glances at her but her eyes never settle on her face. And it breaks Historia a little bit each time.)

(She's afraid that she and Ymir won't meet in the next lifetime, or the one after that, or the one after that. She's afraid that one day she'll wake up and she won't remember Ymir, either, and that terrifies her more than each time she's forgotten her own name.)

 

Ymir always remembers eventually, so Historia never really gives up. Instead she waits. She introduces herself because it makes her smile each time Ymir's eyes light up when she says her name. She tells her about her job, about the blacksmith, about the castle, about airplanes and about automobiles. She teaches her about the stars and how they have more stories to offer than everyone in the world.

Ymir always falls in love with her around the time she remembers who Historia is, so it makes Historia's efforts worthwhile.

(But Historia always admits to herself that seeing Ymir change as a person again and again is more rewarding than any sloppy confession of love Ymir could ever say. It makes the heartbreak more bearable.)

 

Ymir's eyes are never a constant each time they meet in another life. Sometimes they're hazel. Sometimes gold. Sometimes amber. And sometimes they're as brown as the earth beneath their feet.

Historia's eyes are always as blue as the morning sky, and she herself loves the way Ymir's can be as brown as the earth more than any other shade or hue.

 

When Historia is seven years old and living her thirty-forth life, she feels a pang in her chest that she assumes is because her mother slams the door in her face after kicking her out.

(Even after thirty-three lives it still hurts; she realizes the blue tinged bruises never do completely fade.)

Four years later she assumes the dull ache in her chest is because of the children who tease her; at seventeen she assumes the ache is because of the hangover she nurses.

When she's in college working a part time job she hates and studying for a career she doesn't particularly enjoy, she finally realizes never once has she seen Ymir's face in the crowd. She realizes that Ymir hasn't followed her back this time, and the pain that rushes through her is worse than that hangover or the time she cut her elbow on a shard of glass those kids threw at her.

The ache had started in her chest and now it spreads to her fingertips and to her toes. It curls around her eyes and stitches her mouth closed. It hangs over her like a death sentence, or maybe a cloud, yet the ache never allows her to cry.

 

She looks for Ymir the next life she lives. She looks for her in her elementary school when she's playing hide-and-seek with the other kids. She looks for her in the cracks between mirrors and she looks for her in alleys and among the crowd in a lecture hall. She looks for her among the patients and among the bodies in the morgue. She looks until she looks up at the night sky and her soul ascends into another sky where another baby girl is being born.

 

After three lives without Ymir, she begins to focus less on the girl she used to kiss and laugh with. She focuses more on how the sky looks too blue and how the grass never feels real between her toes.

 

Ymir's eyes were always amber, or gold, or hazel, or brown like the earth beneath their feet. Historia could count all of her freckles on both her face and her shoulders, but Historia realizes that as time passes the ache lessens.

She would be grateful if it were because of a different reason.

 

(She starts to forget the shapes she traced into Ymir's skin. She forgets the way her eyes lit up and the way her laughter was borderline obnoxious but still managed to make Historia smile.)

 

(She kisses another pair of lips that taste like cheap beer and pizza. She can't remember if Ymir's lips were different or not.)

 

("Historia? You were mumbling something in your sleep, are you okay, babe?"

"What was I saying?"

"A name. Ymir. Was that someone you used to know?"

"No. I've never heard that name before. Sorry for worrying you.")

 

After eight lives without Ymir, the ache fades away. Sometimes Historia tries to recall why she used to be so sad but the answers never come to her. Or if they do they appear as fog in the back of her mind that could be anything.

 

When she finally sees Ymir again, Historia doesn't recognize her at first. She is sixteen and living her sixty-seventh life, and to her Ymir is just another loud mouthed girl who she might have a bit of a crush on. Her brown eyes look familiar but she cannot place them, and she decides to count all of the freckles on her face if they get close enough but she cannot give a reason why she wants to.

The girl's basketball sneakers squeak against the floors as she walks towards Historia (but really it's to the water fountain where Historia is standing by). As the girl is turning around, she bumps into Historia yet doesn't apologize until she sees Historia's face.

"Sorry."

"It's my fault, don't apologize."

Their fingers brush against each others and all at once Historia remembers whose brown eyes she is looking into. She remembers the stargazing and the laughter and the stolen kisses and fleeting touches and she remembers the girl who she lost too many lives ago. She remembers sorrow and she remembers fear, but most of all she remembers joy.

"I'm Historia."

"Ymir."

And she smiles.

 

(Years later when Ymir finally remembers everything, she kisses Historia's stomach after every apology. She decorates her body in kisses that burn then heal and she whispers _I missed you, Historia, I missed you so much_ and Historia traces figures into Ymir's skin that look more like people than stars.)

 

(Ymir never forgets about her after that life. Or the next. Or the one after that.)


End file.
